


Playing in the Big Leagues

by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot)



Category: Leverage, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Hurt Eliot Spencer, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Snuggling, eliot is a badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3268385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofcamelot/pseuds/Leahelisabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Leverage Team has no idea what's really out there. The last thing they expect to find when investigating corporate fraud is an ancient evil from the beginning of time. They're in over their heads, but when the world is at stake, they will not back down. At least they have found a few good allies in the Winchester Bro's. Expect lots of whump, both of the Sam and Eliot varieties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nate was alone in the office the day that everything changed. They weren't in the middle of the job so the team was enjoying their night off. Sophie and Parker had been shopping all afternoon, preparing the younger girl for a fabulous night on the town. Hardison had made reservations at a very expensive, very exclusive, restaurant and had been prepping all afternoon to give his girl a night she would never forget. No one knew exactly where Eliot was. Hardison and Parker though he was probably working a side job, but Nate figured he was probably working in his newly acquired greenhouse just outside the city.

Nate was spending the night the way he always did, a dimly lit office, a glass of some type of liquor and the bottle sitting nearby, and the always present papers that gave him some idea what they were going to do next. There was nothing really crazy going on. The phone calls to the office asking for help had been tapering off in the last couple of months. Nate wasn't even sure if he had anything all in the short stack before him. Sighing, he dragged his hand over his face and poured himself another glass.

His phone rang, startling him.

"Hey, Nate," it was Joe, one of the guys they had hired to work in Hardison's microbrewery. "Some real-estate woman is here. I called Hardison but he said you could handle it."

Nate looked down at his work. "It's fine. I could use the break anyway. I'll be right down." His bottle was almost empty and he would need more to get through the night.

A dark haired woman in a bright red jacket stood waiting for him. A man, Nate assumed he was her assistant, stood nervously behind her.

Nate strode over to the woman. "What can I do for you?"

"Hello," a wide, insincere smile spread across her face. "My name is Joyce Bricklebee. I assume you must be Alec Hardison."

"Nate Ford," Nate shook her hand firmly. "But Mr Hardison has allowed me to meet with you on his behalf."

"Oh dear, I really do need to see Mt Hardison. You see, I would like to purchase this building and he must be the one to sign any paperwork."

"I'll make things a little easier on you. This building is not for sale so there is no need for any paperwork. Good night," Nate turned to walk back upstairs.

"Wait," she raised her voice impatiently. "I do really need to hear that from Mr Hardison himself. I assure you that out offer is more than fair." She then quoted a pricce that was easily double the value of the building and the land.

Nate raised an eyebrow. "I assure you that it will not do any good, but you are welcome to try. He will be in tomorrow and I am sure he will be only too happy to refuse you in person."

The woman smiled again, but her eyes were cold. "Tell your Mr Hardison that I will be back here promptly at eight."

"Make it ten," Nate smiled just as insincerely. "I doubt he will see you before then."

"Ten it is," the lady spoke through clenched teeth. "George, come!" she said imperiously before flouncing angrily out the door.

Nate watched her go with a frown. Something seemed off, more than just the pushy sales lady vibe. He had been around enough crooked dealings to know when someone wasn't quite on the level. He looked at his watch. Parker and Hardison would be finishing up dinner and starting up their after dinner entertainment. Sophie had made it clear that she wanted an evening to herself, most likely involving a bubble bath, a glass of red wine and a racy novel.

He pulled his phone out and was about to call Eliot but didn't want to pull him away from his plants if it was only paranoia. He had been hard on Eliot lately, pushing him into the leadership role more often, getting him ready to take over when Nate wanted out. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and decided to take a little walk through the neighbourhood.

He stepped out the door into the Portland night and walked along the street. He knew that a lot of businesses had been bought and sold lately, but now that he was paying attention, he could no longer write it off as coincidence. He remembered eating at the diner on the corner before the owners had sold everything and moved to Maui. The antique shop had been a great source for props for Sophie's theatre. She intended to go back for more before their "going out of business" sale ended. Looking further down, he could see the Wedding Boutique, the coffee shop and the bakery, all closed within the last month. In every single window sat a large poster with a familiar face.

"You have been busy, Mrs Bicklebee," he frowned as he looked further down and saw even more places with SOLD in big white letters in the front window.

He stopped in front of the tool shop, spying yet another notice of sale. Nate wondered what magic she had worked on Mr Marshall to make him sell. He had talked about getting rid of the place and moving somewhere warm, but Nate would have put money on the fact that he would never go through with it. This store was his entire life.

A dark figure brushed by him, coming from the side door of the building. Nate could have sworn it was that woman's assistant; Greg or something.

That was all pushed from his mind when he saw the flames glowing in the upstairs window.

He took a few seconds to call 911 but he didn't wait on the phone. He busted down the door and raced up the stairs to Marshall's living area above the shop. He was choking on smoke by the time he reached Marshall's bedroom and it only took an instant to see he was already too late.

The room itself was only smouldering, but Marshall's bed was a torrent of flame, a vaguely human shape turning to ash in the center of the blaze. He stood there in horror for only a moment before he noticed the fire eating up the carpet toward him. He turned and the door frame was already ablaze.

He gasped reflexively, inhaling a lungful of smoke, and doubled over, coughing. His eyes were streaming with tears, blinding him so he couldn't find his way through the apartment to the stairs. His mind was already growing fuzzy and dark spots started to eat up his vision.

He rubbed at his eyes, trying to find his way out but the fire was spreading inhumanly fast. It had created nearly a perfect circle around him. A dark shape leapt at him through the flames, dragging him down, closer to the floor. A wet cloth was slapped over his mouth and nose and a gravelly voice was telling him, "Follow me."

A strong hand gripped his arm, hard enough to bruise. "We've got to go fast. The flames have cut us off, but they're not thick. Trust me, Nate." The voice growled in his ear.

Nate nodded and before he could even think, the hand was dragging at him, forcing him into searing heat. Nate started to struggle but he had grown weak and was no match for the one who forced him on. Barely a moment passed and they were beyond the flames. He was forced down the stairs and out the door and then they were rolling over and over in the streets. The heat of the fire had been so great that Nate had not even noticed how much of it they had brought with him.

At last, they lay still on the road, the sound of sirens growing louder around them. Nate tried to breathe the clean air but could only gasp and choke on the smoke in his lungs. He tried to catch a glimpse of his saviour but his consciousness was leaving and the face he searched was impossible to make out with the fire as a backdrop. He reached up, hand tangling in long, wet hair and lost his grip on consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Eliot, scowling furiously at him.

"How about you let me do the running into burning buildings from now on," he growled. "I was almost too late to get you out."

Nate realized he was lying on a gurney in the back of an ambulance, oxygen mask strapped to his face. He tried to sit up, pushing at the mask as he did so.

Eliot slapped his hand away. "They want that on you for at least the next 20 minutes or so for the smoke inhalation. Leave it."

"Right, cause if it were you in my place, you would be sitting meekly like a good little boy for the doctor to tell you that you are all better," Nate whispered hoarsely, his voice muffled by the mask.

Eliot just ignored him. "There isn't much else wrong with you. Your coat protected you from burns and I was able to get to you pretty quick. I'm afraid your eyebrows are a lost cause though."

Nate finally managed to sit upright all the way. He noticed with a little bit of surprise that they were still on main street across from the tool shop. From the outside, he could hardly even tell there had been a fire. The bedroom window was broken and there were scorch marks on the wall above it from the flash fire, but those were the only visible signs.

"It was an inferno in there. I thought for sure the whole building would be gone by now."

Eliot shook his head. "It was extremely localized. The firemen are saying it started on his bed, most likely because he fell asleep smoking. You saw it quickly enough to save the building, but there was nothing you could have done to save Marshall."

Nate sighed and removed the oxygen mask. Eliot let him do it. "Gather the team," he rasped. "We've got work to do."

By the time Nate convinced Eliot to smuggle him away from the ambulance and the team was gathered together, it was after midnight.

Sophie's hair was still mostly wet and tied up in a knot on top of her head. Parker's hair was a disaster, her makeup was smudged, and one of the buttons had been missed on the back of her red dress. Hardison was similarly rumpled and trying not to pout.

Eliot was making coffee. No one looked pleased.

"Honestly, what was so important that it couldn't wait til morning?" Sophie's cultured tones cut through the impatient chatter.

"Mr Marshall from the tool shop a couple blocks down," Nate said plainly. "I think it requires some investigation."

"Nate," Eliot interrupted. "I already told you it was an accident. It's tragic, but these things do happen."

"And if I told you that mere hours before his death, Marshall sold his tool shop? And suppose his tool shop was purchased by a particular realtor who has been purchasing a lot of property in this area. And just suppose this realtor also happened to make an offer on the very building we are all standing in," Nate countered.

"Nate, we don't need an emergency meeting to discuss the realtor's offer. I'll just tell her to stick it where the sun don't shine," Hardison broke in.

"It isn't just a realtor doing business. This Picklepuss character has bought up a solid chunk of Portland real estate but she isn't reselling any of it or even offering it up for rent. They are all sitting empty, why? Marshall's last living decision was to sell the tool shop that was his entire life. He's not the only one either. The lady at the antique store, Freeman, I think her name was, did the same thing. She sold her store one day and the next was tragically killed in a car accident. Maybe there is nothing wrong, but if you're finding half eaten garbage and greasy, rodent footprints, what you're smelling is most likely a rat.

"Parker, you're going to head over to Joyce Sticklebat's and do some sneaking around. Take eliot with you, just in case. Only go inside if she isn't in the building and if you do break into her safe, try to leave everything the way she left it. I don't want her to get suspicious. It's too early in the game.

'Hardison, you are once again on digging patrol. Is she operating alone or working for some big corporation. Look up building plans. I want to know what she plans to do with her properties.

"Sophie and I will head over to the fire, see what we can find out there."

"Come on, Eliot," Parker bounced out of her chair. "Let's go steal a realtor!"

"We're not stealing a realtor, Parker. We're just looking around her office," Eliot growled.

"Then let's go steal her office," Parker gleefully grabbed Eliot's arm and dragged him toward the door.

Eliot rolled his eyes and allowed himself to be pulled.

Hardison was alone in moments. The office was silent as he pulled out a 2L bottle of orange soda and sat down to work.

.~o()o~.

Eliot was driving. He had his own car today and there was no way he was letting Parker behind the wheel. Parker chattered at him in the seat beside him. Most of the time, he had no idea what she was even talking about, but after the fear of chasing Nate into a burning building, he was really enjoying the uncomplicated friendship he shared with the thief.

He shifted his right arm cautiously, trying not to let the sleeve of his leather jacket rub against the raw burns on his forearm, the burns he had neglected to mention to the paramedics while they were fussing over Nate.

He was pulled out of his reverie when Parker grabbed his arm and squeezed. He grunted harshly. "Don't touch me while I'm driving," he yelled, rather harsher than he meant to.

"Sorry," Parker said, but didn't release his arm. "But didn't Nate say there was something weird that happened to the lady with the antique store? Cause we just drove past and there were people inside and I'm pretty sure one of them was that realtor."

"Good, that means she won't be in the office." Eliot said through gritted teeth. He tried to shake Parker's hand off but she just squeezed harder.

"But if she really hurt Mrs Freeman, maybe she is going to hurt her son as well. We should stop and check, just to be sure."

"Fine," Eliot gave in. "If you will take your freaking hands off me."

Parker rolled her eyes and was out of the car and running up to the window almost before he could park.

It was a strange scene that met their eyes. Mrs Freeman's son was tied to a chair. The realtor and her nerdy looking assistant were in a standoff with two guys, one huge with shaggy hair and impossible sculpted sideburns and the other shorter and prettier. They got there just in time to see it all go crazy.

The realtor's face transformed, her mouth opening to reveal jagged teeth and a bifurcated tongue. She tossed the pretty one across the room. The tall one followed, thrown by her deceptively strong assistant.

Eliot knew he probably shouldn't get involved, but the thrill of the fight was already humming through his veins. "Stay there!' he shouted to Parker before throwing himself through the door and into the melee. He tackled the woman first. Sasquatch seemed to be holding his own better than pretty boy.

He threw himself between Joyce and the man lying among the broken glass on the floor. He instantly knew that this fight was different from any he had ever been in before. The woman hardly flinched at his solid right to her jaw. He was the one cursing as his knuckles cracked and sparks of pain shot up his burned arm right to his shoulder.

She was moving much quicker than he expected; she managed to grab him by the shoulders and toss him effortlessly into the wall. He hit with a grunt, the wind knocked out of him and the world tilting crazily in front of his eyes. He didn't allow himself time to recover, throwing himself back at her with a roar.

Her fist in his stomach was much less the soft hit he would expect from a lady and more like impaling himself on a wooden beam. His air was gone again and he landed on the ground in front of her, gasping like a fish. He was light headed from lack of oxygen but he rolled away from her and popped up again, using his momentum to launch himself into a spinning kick, right at her face.

She grabbed his ankle inches from her nose and swung him into the opposite wall.

"Dude, stay down," pretty boy wheezed. "I'll take it from here."

Eliot was only too glad to comply. His consciousness was fading fast and he still couldn't draw a full breath into his lungs. There was a sizzling and the sound of choking and screaming and Parker's frantic voice calling his name, but all of that was swallowed up by the pounding of his heart and the darkness veiling his eyes."


	3. Chapter 3

Waking up was rough. Eliot woke up in layers; first, he could hear again. Parker's voice was shrill and terrified in his ear. He couldn't really comprehend the words but he knew he needed her to stop freaking out. He was supposed to worry about her and he hated for her to see him as anything less than unstoppable. Feeling returned in a rush of pain. Every inch of him throbbed. It was only with great restraint that he managed to keep silent. It didn't help that Parker was prodding every bruise with her less than gentle fingers.

Finally, he managed to prop open his reluctant eyelids. His eyes crossed as they tried to focus on Parker's nose, less than half an inch away from his own. He flinched and grunted when her roaming hands landed on his tender stomach.

"Parker," he groaned. "How is it that you can lift anyone's wallet without them feeling a thing but you can inflict so much pain on me?"

"Eliot! You're awake," Parker yanked his shoulders off the ground and hugged him tight. Eliot groaned as the movement made his head spin and his stomach churn. A large hand helped Parker off of him and then reached down to help him up.

"You alright, man?"

With great difficulty, Eliot managed to focus enough to see that the tall guy with the shaggy hair was speaking. He waved off all offerings of help and pushed himself to a sitting position against. the wall. "Good. I'm good," he growled. "Just give me a minute to catch my breath.

"Dude!" Cocky-looking short guy spoke up. "You're like a one man army!"

Eliot shot him a glare. "Sarcasm? You and I both know I got my ass kicked thoroughly."

"No, no sarcasm. I'm serious. People who go up against these things without knowing what they are, and even some people who do know, usually die instantly. The fact that you are still breathing actually says a lot."

The Sasquatch cut in. "Thanks, Dean. I'll take it from here. My name is Sam. This is my brother, Dean."

"Eliot, Eliot Spencer, and what the hell ran over me?"

Sam and Dean exchanged pointed looks. "This is gonna sound crazy..." Sam started.

"I've already seen a realtor transform into a monster right in front of me; I think I can handle crazy," Eliot snorted.

"It was a Leviathan," Sam started and then stopped when he saw the incredulous look on Eliot's face.

"The biblical sea monster?" Eliot asked. He shoved Parker away from where she was trying to prop up his shoulder.

"Um...well kind of," Sam trailed off.

"It is the monster mentioned in the Bible, but it's more of a shape changing, black goo filled, human munching, power hungry...thing," Dean cut in.

Eliot was decidedly skeptical. "Right, and I've never heard of these creatures before, because..."

"Well, they haven't been on earth for long. They were shut up in Purgatory since before the dawn of time," Sam said.

Eliot nodded. "Well at least you've taken care of them," he started to pull himself to his feet. At first he tried to push Parker away again but she was stuck closer than a limpet and so there was no other choice than for him to roll his eyes and accept her help. Once he was standing, swaying like a tree in a storm, black spots clouding his vision, he was glad the little blonde was tucked under his arm. She was a lot stronger than she looked. He was almost too dizzy to notice Sam and Dean glancing at each other again.

"There are a few more of them," Sam spoke hesitantly.

"How many more?"

"Possibly thousands. We don't know for sure. They are a little hard to spot unless you actually catch them feeding."

Eliot sighed, "sounds like fun."

"You're taking this rather calmly," Sam said.

"I get in fights for a living. Not everything I have fought has been strictly human. If it's simple, I take care of it myself. If it is less simple, I usually call one of my contacts down in South Dakota. He either tells me how to take care of it or sends someone who will."

"You know Bobby Singer?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, that's the guy, real helpful in a pinch. I wasn't able to get ahold of him the last time I called though. Figured he got sick of my ugly mug and was ignoring the phone."

Sam and Dean looked at each other again. Eliot was getting familiar enough with their silent communication to realize something was wrong.

"Leviathan got him a couple months back," Dean said gruffly. "We haven't gotten anyone to run the phones yet."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Were you?..." Eliot trailed off into silence when Sam looked at him pointedly, trying to get him to shut up. "Sorry. He was a good man."

"Look, we probably should get out of here. We don't want to be caught sticking around the scene of the crime. You should probably get your head checked and your blond friend looks a little freaked out.

"Parker, this is Parker," Eliot said belatedly. He looked down at his friend and saw that Sam was right. Parker's eyes were a little wider than normal and she hadn't jumped in on any of their conversation. She had just held onto his arm the whole time. "Yeah, you guys should get out of here. I can make the call to the police once you're clear."

Sam nodded and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "This is a number where you can reach us. Only use it in dire emergency. Call, leave your first name and number and we will get back to you when we can. These two are dead, but we don't know if there will be more in your neighbourhood. I suggest you stock up on borax. It burns them like acid. Then you need to behead them and keep the head and body separate. That is the only way to keep them down."

Eliot nodded. "Thanks. Hopefully I won't need to see you around."

Sam and Dean shook his free hand before grabbing the heads of the two leviathans and heading out the back. Eliot gave them a few minutes to get free before heading out after them. Now that the fight was over, adrenaline was leaving him fast. He clutched Parker a little closer as he limped toward his car. He groaned when she unknowingly brushed the burns on his arm. Those infernal black spots were crowding his vision again.

He put up a token protest when she pulled him around to the passenger seat but was too exhausted to fight much.

"Eliot, you're hurt. You were hurt before you walked in. I know you burnt yourself. There is no way you are smart enough to fool me. I know you will kick up a face if I take you to the hospital so this is the compromise. You let me drive and I won't call you an ambulance right here," Parker glared up at him.

Eliot knew better than to laugh. "You will drive her as if there was three million in cold cash on her back seat that is rigged to blow if you go too fast, turn too recklessly or hit any big bumps. If you don't you will know the meaning of pain," he threatened.

Parker smiled sweetly. "Don't worry, Eliot. I'll take care of your baby."

Eliot closed his eyes and drifted off as she pulled out of the parking lot.

He woke to Parker prodding him. Once again, she seemed to have found his biggest bruise. He reached out to grab her hand but she was already out of the car and dragging his door open. He almost fell out onto the pavement. It was with great difficulty that he managed to catch himself.

The headquarters were rather quiet when they got in. Nate had gone home to sleep off the residual smoke inhalation. Sophie had gone with him in case he needed anything. That left Hardison, sitting in the dark all alone with just the light of his computer screen.

Eliot collapsed on the couch while Parker hugged her boyfriend from behind.

"You're back late, baby," Hardison yawned. "Did you find anything?"

Parker opened her mouth to speak, then looked at Eliot questioningly. Eliot simply shook his head and spoke for her.

"The realtor is dead. So is her assistant. We never got to her office. But I think it's over for now. She was definitely acting on her own."

"Hmm," Hardison sighed. "I don't know, man. There is something fishy going on here. I don't know what it is yet. I have never seen a realty office with so many damn shell companies. I still don't know who owns it. I think it's going to take a while to crack but I'm going to keep digging. Maybe it's nothing but I'm kind of worried about how far up this may actually go. Do you think you could take Parker home for me? It's already 5am and I probably won't be getting to bed any time tonight."

"No problem," Eliot sighed and braced himself to stand. It was easier this time. He didn't feel like he was seconds away from passing out anymore. Parker inserted herself under his arm again anyway but this time, she didn't argue when he got in the driver's seat.

Minutes later, they pulled up in front of the warehouse Parker called home. Eliot switched the car off and looked over at his passenger. She had curled up into a ball on the seat. "This is your stop," he said gently.

"I know," she looked at him with an uncharacteristic vulnerability in her eyes. "It's just that..." she trailed off and looked out the window.

"What's the matter, Parker?" Eliot faked impatience.

"My place is so big and open. And there are monsters. I didn't know the monsters were real," a rare tear slid down her cheek.

"Do you want me to come in? I can keep the monsters away." Eliot offered. Parker just nodded.

Eliot pulled his car into the big sliding door on the side and closed it behind him. Parker jumped at the clanging of metal when the door dropped. Eliot didn't turn off the headlights until she had reached the large bed in the center of the room.

"Here," Parker said bluntly, shoving a pair of his own sleep pants and a plain white t-shirt into his arms.

Eliot shook his head, deciding not to ask why she had them. He just turned his back and changed as quickly as he could with his bruised muscles protesting every movement. When he turned back around, Parker was already changed and under the covers. He crawled in beside her and then had to endure Parker's elbows, knees and chin as she tried to find a comfortable position. She found every single one of his bruises first. Finally, they lay there quietly, Eliot on his back with Parker tucked up warmly against his side. He listened as her breaths grew slower and longer until he knew she was asleep. He lay there, listening to the sounds of the warehouse, every muscle throbbing but still comforted by the solid feel of his friend beside him. Yet even as he also drifted toward sleep, he couldn't fight the feeling that everything he knew was changing.


End file.
